The Last of the Worst Pretenders
by Fanbutnotsopitchperfect
Summary: The only person she could ever trust was herself. Now she's not even sure she can trust herself. Beca/Jesse future drabble/oneshot


A/N: So this was written in a few hours on a plane and inspired by Matt Nathanson's new song Mission Bells. I may have stolen the whole concept and a few lyrics so go listen to the song. It's on YouTube and stuff and will probably make more sense than this drabble.

She wakes up with in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. It's not the first time this has happened.

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She wakes up in a cold sweat. It's around the 78th time, not that she's counting. It's just seemed to happen every week since she's moved to L.A and that was a year and a half ago. And she has been counting how long she's been living it L.A. It wouldn't bother her except it's always the same routine. Go to work, come home work some more on her own stuff, go to bed and then wake up suddenly in a cold sweat with no memory of the dream that caused it. It's been the not knowing that bothers her.

The fact that she has no recollection why she keeps waking up in a cold sweat that's really been bothering her. She's constantly reliving a bad dream she can't remember and it's been driving her insane. For months now she's been trying to figure out what keeps waking her up.

When she first moved she wondered if it was her fears about living alone. Her first real visit to L.A she fell in love with the Venice Beach area. It was art and music and locals and everything she wanted. Even though it seemed shady at night, and was a going to be a good hour commute to her job, she fell in love with the area. She could overlook shady at night because the homeless guy that played the bongos outside of the condos was harmless. And the fact that any passer-bys were afraid of him was kinda of an asset.

But even after deciding Homeless Logan, that she gave a dollar to every morning, was a good security guard the cold sweat dreams still didn't go away.

So she so decided it wasn't the area she was worried about but her space. She needed something to protect her personal space and then the cold sweat waking would go away. There was no way in hell she was going to let Homeless Logan live with her, so she got a cat. Sure it wasn't the best means of protection, but she didn't have the time to take care of a dog and she always thought cats were these underrated self sufficient creatures. She identified with them in a weird way. They could take of themselves with minimal reliance on anyone else. If they don't get fed, they go find their own food. Their claws come out at unexpected times. She got that. She understood cats. So it might not have been the best home security but that's how Lucky came to live in the condo with her. Maybe he couldn't eat an intruder alive the way a pit bull could but he would at least be able to give her enough of a head start to get the fuck out if anyone did try to break in. Plus he made sure she never had to worry about a mice infestation and he made sure she saw the leftover evidence of every mouse he killed.

Lucky the cat didn't make the cold sweat nightmares go away either. She just had to accept that they weren't related to L.A at all but who was also in L.A.

So she accepted that as long as she knew he was there as well (because she had no intentions to ever leave L.A) the cold sweats nights were going to happen and tried to brace herself for the waking up in a cold sweat at least once a week until eventually it became easier to not sleep. And then during the rare occasion she got more than a couple hours of sleep the cold sweats didn't phase her as much. She forced herself to accept and expect them eventually she could just roll over and go back to sleep... until tonight.

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She wakes up in a cold sweat again. It's nothing new, only this time it is new. It's not a clear picture. More like imagines or flashes. Flashes of smoke and fire. People around her shedding tears as she walks through completely unnoticed like a ghost. Imagines of a black suits, Benji crying, a beautiful handmade box being lowered, and finally gray stone surrounded by green grass.

This time it's not just a cold sweat that wakes her but a cold sweat that's accompanied by a tightening in her chest and a cough that comes with tears. Tears she can only explain with glimpses of a dream. Glimpses of a dream she wants to forget, and get away from... Glimpses of a dream she wished she'd never remembered. She lies in bed and tries to go back to sleep but they're still there. As soon as she closes her eyes the imagines return. She knows leaving her eye closed will just end up making her sick so she stops trying to sleep and starts looking for an exit plan. The best she can come up with involves putting on clothing acceptable for public and giving Lucky a scoop of food before she's out her front door.

"You're too early. See the light?" Homeless Logan points at a flashing light in the distance that is obviously a plane on its descent to the runway. "They're coming. They're finally here for me. Go back before they take you and not me." He waves his hands and frantically points back towards her apartment. "You can't mess up the plan!"

Her chest shakes with a bitter laugh as she shakes her head, "I wish they were coming to take me." She mutter with a bit of cynicism before she tosses a dollar into Homeless Logan's hat and starts to walk out toward the Boardwalk and out onto the pier. As loud as it can be during the day, at this hour the neighborhood is uncharastically quiet. She's not used to that. The sound of the waves hitting against the docks, the sound of nature's quiet. It wasn't something she'd ever pictured. The quiet along the dock at night. It wasn't part of her plan.

There was a plan. She had a plan once. A plan that didn't involve college. Going to Barden was forced on her. It didn't involve making friends at a Barden. That just kinda happened. And it sure as hell didn't involve falling in love with Jesse Swanson. That was her emotional equivalent of the meteorite hitting Russia. A big fiery blaze in the sky that crashed down and fucked up the surrounding area. Only in her case the surrounding area was her... Her walls... Her heart... And now she realizes the reason she wakes up in a cold sweat is that he fucked up her plan as well. Because she had a plan that didn't involve waking up in cold sweats because of him.

She leans her head back a draws in a breath of salty sea air as she closes her eyes. He wasn't a part of her original plan. A plan she never let him influence. A plan she desperately hung onto, a plan she's still hanging onto, a plan she's refused to lose her grip on. The plan that was her, LA and music. It didn't matter that his plan ended him up in L.A as well. It didn't not matter, it's just telling him it didn't matter was easier. How could she ever explain it freaked her out their futures were taking them to the same place? It was just easier to go with the gut and tell him it didn't matter. And to listen to that voice that kept saying there was no future for them. It was just easier to trust her instinct and run away. And she trusted herself and that instinct.

Now she can't even trust herself because it's her fault she's standing on a dock at 3 am trying to clear her mind. It's her own fault she's not laying with her head resting on his chest letting his heartbeat lull her to self. It's her own fault she's stand there trying not to picture his face when he's only a few miles away and she's could be with him, touching his face. It's her own fault she's confusing herself by wonder why she still uses her plan as excuse to keep herself guarded.

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She really can't trust herself anymore because it's just before sunrise when she let the salty ocean air turn into the overly fragrant smell of pineapple blowing through the air vents in her car. The sight of the dock and the water around her is now an apartment building all the way in Glendale. She only knows one person that lives in Glendale, that's Jesse and now she's park outside his apartment building at five in the morning like a crazy person. And maybe she is crazy because she can't make herself pull out of the parking lot and make the hour drive back to her condo. The hour drive... It took her an hour, and now she knows she really is crazy and shouldn't trust herself. He could be inside with someone else; he might not even be home.

But she can't make herself make herself leave. And she can't force herself to stop walking towards his apartment, and she can't stop herself from knocking.

"Beca," his eyes are barely open, and his voice still clouded with sleep as he reaches out and slides his fan down her arm. "Okay yeah Beca, you're really there." His voice gets more alert as he makes the statement.

"I couldn't sleep," her eyes look down following his touch and watching her body react with Goosebumps. "I keep having this dream-"

"Am I dead?" He smirks and lightly shakes his head. "I have this dream where you're dead. You're dead and all I can do is kick myself over letting you run away."

She bites down on her bottom lip and nods as he speaks. And when he finishes speaking all she can do is shrug while he watches her... While he looks at her like he knows her... Because he does. "Good bye is a word I'm well versed in. And you didn't chase me, so isn't it like I let you get away. All I know is I'm tired of pretending... I needed to see you tonight."

Her eyes drift back up to him as his body moves allowing full access to the entrance of his apartment. She follows his lead, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside with her.

"You are one confusing human being Beca Mitchell." He mumbles as she moves her lips to his and pushes the front door closed.


End file.
